


collision

by dearparker



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arachnophobia, Asphyxiation, Blood, Blood and Injury, Burns, Character Death, Cutting, Dead People, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flash Thompson Needs a Hug, Flash Thompson Redemption, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Michelle Jones Needs a Hug, Ned Leeds Needs a Hug, Paranormal, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is Trying His Best, Peter Parker is a Mess, Possession, Protective May Parker (Spider-Man), Protective Tony Stark, Scared Peter Parker, Spiders, Stephen Strange is a Good Bro, Tired Peter Parker, Vomiting, Worried May Parker (Spider-Man), Worried Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:41:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26975320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearparker/pseuds/dearparker
Summary: ”Flash,” It’s the only thing he can say. He repeats it like a broken mantra, croaking and sobbing into his aunt’s hands, even after she shushes him quietly.”Peter, Flash is gone. His body was found at the park.”(or: everyone's life begins to fall apart after flash thompson goes missing, but peter is determined to help)
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Flash Thompson, Peter Parker & Stephen Strange, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 7
Kudos: 42





	1. red

_"The way I've treated you isn't fair. Let me make it up to you."_

Peter scratches at his throat, sharp prickles causing it to itch and he looks down at the envelope he had received, stuffed deep within his locker the day before. Right before the news broke. It had been sealed tight—well it had been, until he had ran the blade of a kitchen knife through it and managed to pierce his palm in the same breath. A few drops of blood had already seeped into the white envelope as he continues to stare.

His stomach bubbles with anticipation. Everything around him is silent, the thick, cushioned headphones Mr. Stark had personally designed him sat on top of his head and even then his mind wouldn't stop racing, those whispering thoughts amplified in his worry.

_"I would like that, thank you Flash."_

He tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth, his trembling finger lifting the flap to the envelope and the first thing he sees is the white part of a polaroid picture, a date messily scribbled on in blue ink. Spider-sense prickling, he timidly picks it up.

September 27, 2016 is the date that's scribbled below, the picture taken of the entire Academic Decathlon team mid-clap, and a sheepish looking MJ in the back. It was the day Mr. Harrington had announced her as the new team captain. No one looks in the direction of the camera, their attention all on MJ and now that he thinks about it, he can't even remember taking a photo that day.

Peter swallows down the bile that crawls up his throat and snatches his phone off of his desk, his leg bouncing up and down as he types out a shaky message. The flash hurts his eyes, and he has to retake the photo twice because of how blurry it is, but he sends it to MJ.

_Did we take this photo the day you became captain?_

While he waits for her response, he sets his phone down, and despite his nausea ramping up dramatically at the sight of the white envelope, dumps the rest of the polaroids onto his desk. Tens of them pile up and he reaches for them.

The next is is dated September 29, 2016. Flash is stood beside him, hand frozen behind his neck as he had looked over at Peter. He remembers it clearly, when Flash had apologized to him. Then took him out for ice cream.

October 1, 2016, and MJ had slapped him upside his head. His face was scrunched into a pout.

October 2, 2016, him and Cindy had walked to school together. The same day Flash pantsed him during flag football, and in retaliation, Peter had tripped him.

October 4, 2016, Ned had spent the night where they slept on the floor together.

October 6, 2016, May had asked him to take out the trash. She had kissed his crown and shut the door behind him.

Eventually the pictures transform, from lighting and exposure, from the Academic Decathlon team, to him and someone else, until it was just him. Exiting an alley. Studying. Sleeping in class. Talking with friends. The angle is fixated on him, his peers nothing but blurry blobs in the background.

Then, he hears it.

Paper tearing, ripping apart and he takes off his headphones in his panic. It's louder now. Right behind him. His spider-sense is thrumming painfully in his veins, his head throbbing with the danger from behind him and he has half a mind to grab his web-shooters from the bottom of his backpack.

Instead, he grabs the sharp kitchen knife and he turns towards the wall. He holds his breath, only for his eyebrows to furrow in confusion and curiosity, a burgundy glow emitting from behind the torn wallpaper.

When he inhales it seems as if the wall does too—a deep, refreshing inhale, as if it had just breathed for the first time in a long time. He takes a small step forward and it’s center glows just a bit brighter, and despite the way his stomach twists and his spider-sense screeches at him to run the other way, he takes another.

That’s when he hears a shaky, soft word.

_”P... Peter.”_

His heart stutters in his chest, the knife clattering to the floor. He’s overwhelmed with an emotion he can’t even describe yet it fills his stomach and his lungs, weighting each of his smalls gasps. He practically jumps closer but stops two feet away, his heart now hammering in his chest.

But his spider-sense is screaming for him to get away, and he’s dizzy from just looking at the deep glow in front of him, from the thoughts running through his head a mile a minute of _how_ and _why_ and _when_.

But he knew who.

“F-Flash? Flash can you hear me?!” Peter desperately wants to reach out, graze his fingers against it, possibly pierce it with just the tips of his fingers but something stops him, scares him into holding his breath.

 _“I’m scared,”_ Flash’s voice echoes from beyond the burgundy that separates them, and the tremor can’t be hidden even by their distance.

“Okay, j-just tell me where you are! I can get you out!” Peter cries out, his hands shaking against his chest as it gets hard to breathe.

Flash doesn’t reply, like his presence had suddenly vanished. Peter feels his heart breaking slightly, his spider-sense thrumming in alarm, and it feels as if Flash is saying goodbye.

Goodbye isn’t an option. He wants to plead, beg with his new friend and he chokes on a sob, tears beginning to frame his face when his phone rings suddenly.

He jumps nearly two feet in the air, his hands coming up to cover his ears as it continues to ring, and Mr. Stark’s name lights up across the screen. He scrambles to pick up the device and it takes him two attempts to answer the call.

”Your vitals are off the charts, kid. What’s up?”

Peter barely stifles his sob, his hand shaking as he presses it against his mouth, and Tony’s frantic voice fills his head but he hears nothing at all.

It felt as if Flash had been right in front of him, his energy nearly pulling him in and if he had reached out then maybe Peter would’ve felt it, and then he’s gone just as fast as he came.

Tony begins to yell into the phone now, demands for an answer from the boy, but then he feels the shift.

The temperature drops suddenly—when he exhales the cloud in front of him is purely white, the cold seeping into his socks and clothes. Heat only comes from the burgundy glow from behind the wallpaper, it inhaling once again and exhaling, somehow getting colder with each breath.

”Peter! Listen to me! Tony and I are right down the street, okay you’re going to be okay!” May’s voice cuts through the static in his head, just enough for him to breathe through his paralyzing fear.

Just as he nearly utters a word, the door behind him slams. He sobs, his grip on his phone only tightens and he turns towards it, his chest hitching with every sob he stifles. Nothing stands before him, at least not something he can see. He can feel it though—the large form of a blood-thirsty, almost ravenous predator as it stalks him.

“M-May?”

Peter croaks out his Aunt’s name into the phone just as it slips from his grip, her response lost as the phone hits the floor but he doesn’t even blink, his eyes filled with tears that continue to spill over. His spider-sense stings now, urging him, begging him to run, yet he’s frozen in place even if his whole body is trembling.

May’s voice muffles in the carpet but a loud, booming noise overpowers her desperate attempts at getting his attention, and Peter can’t stop the sob that rips from his throat. Then, with another booming noise, comes a bloody footprint that squelches in the carpet.

One after another, slowly progressing forward, just the creature’s presence has him shuddering in terror, a low growl emitted from something he can’t even see. But the footprints spread out wide, sharp talons piercing the floor and scraping the hardwood beneath.

The burgundy wall inhales once, it’s glow brightening with each inhale and exhale, until Flash’s voice comes through again. It breaks half-way through his sentence but he pleads anyways.

_“Peter... run! You have to.”_

Peter chokes suddenly. There’s a metallic taste in the back of his throat and a cold breath on his neck, sending shivers down his spine as the creature leans impossibly closer until it wraps it’s needle-like-fingers around his left shoulder, the tips digging into his flesh and blood stains his sleeve.

A strained whisper seems to echo around the room, the noise bouncing from wall to wall and Peter feels the energy quickly draining from his body, his head now light on his shoulders. The needle-like-fingers digs in just a bit more as they begin to turn him around.

But then he sees it.

Large, red eyes stare down at him and the creature is too dark to truly see more than it’s hunched figure reaching for him, and the guttural noise coming from it’s throat causes the walls to shake. There’s dried blood on the talons that grip his shoulders and a part of him knows that the blood wasn’t from his shoulder.

The creature has a long tongue that lazily dangles from it’s mouth, saliva dripping from it and it lands on Peter’s cheek, but he’s so terrified he can barely move at all. Then the tongue moves and slowly drags itself up the boy’s cheek, even as he jerks away from the cold touch.

Four loud bangs come from his bedroom door, yet the whispers grow louder in volume and numbers, the shrill ringing in his ears even manages to block out Flash’s last desperate plea. Blood begins to trickle down—coating his teeth and tongue, dripping from his ears, blood starting to trickle from his eyes and the red frames his pale face.

Peter sees Flash at the moment. When the creature brought its tongue to his cheek, he had seen his friend. Mud had dried along his throat and over his clothes, tears still on his cheeks, hair matted to his head from blood. His mouth was open with a scream.

” _Help me!”_

Reverberating all around him, Peter cries out in pain when the creature repeats the sound like a broken record. Noises distort themselves and he claws at his ears as he collapses onto his knees, the metallic taste in his mouth causing him to gag.

The bangs that come from the door are from May and Tony he realizes. They’re screaming for him, possibly at each other and the doorknob continues to jiggle with their futile attempts. The world spins and doesn’t stop. Peter screams from the pain in his head. His chest begins to ache from the lack of air and there’s still blood in his mouth, eventually he falls onto his bottom and scrambles to push himself away.

His arms shake from exertion as he presses his back against the wall. The creature doesn’t come closer but it’s looming figure seems to stand taller, all while the lights in his room flicker and burn brighter. It hurts his own eyes—stinging either from the light, fear, or the blood that continues to trickle from them.

Everything hurts, and he just wants it to end.

”Stop! Please!” Peter shouts, breaking off into a sob. He screams again and he’s not even sure if it’s a coherent sentence, but it all hurts so much.

”Peter!” Tony yells from behind the door, “Peter just hold on!”

”Tony! May!”

The creature moves abruptly, and the next thing that happens causes his stomach to twist. A large explosion happens right before his eyes and blood paints the walls, still warm on his skin as it pours down from all over. He can’t stop his shoulders from shaking or stop panicking for that matter.

Peter covers his head with his arms, his throat sore from his screams. A pained whine crawls out of him just as the worst of it stops. No more screams or whispers, or the bitter cold that’s settled into his bones, or even the hope that Flash was still there.

Only he remains, the creature no where in sight. He wants to wonder why or where it went, maybe put on his suit and mask and go after it for an answer, but at the moment he can only be relieved it’s over.

Finally—after what seems like a lifetime—May and Tony burst through the door. While the older man pauses, his Aunt takes one look at his shaking form and scoops him into her arms, ignoring the blood that soaks into her pants.

Happy’s face appears behind Tony’s frozen form, shock crossing over his features at the sight of blood coating the walls and the boy’s sobs reach his ears.

”Peter! Pete y-you have to tell me what happened,” May cups his face and tears shine in her eyes. Some have already spilled over.

”Flash,” It’s the only thing he can say. He repeats it like a broken mantra, croaking and sobbing into his aunt’s hands, even after she shushes him quietly.

He can feel Happy’s confusion, but he knows May and Tony are sharing a look. They’re scared he’s lost his mind since Flash disappeared, and maybe he has. But his shoulder still stings from the talons and he _saw_ his friend. He wouldn’t make something like this up.

May wipes at the skin under his eyes but eventually gives up when more seems to appear, dripping down from his hairline, and she simply presses their foreheads together. Her voice cracks as she whispers to him.

”Peter, Flash is gone. His body was found at the park.”

* * *

Warm water trickles down his back as May twists the white wash cloth, her mouth pulled down with a frown as the water starts to tint pink from the blood that cakes her nephew. He’s still trembling—his shoulders moving up and down in silent sobs, the water by his thighs moving in waves with his tremors.

Peter flinches when she begins to lightly scrub at his back, and Tony shifts from where he’s sat on the closed toilet lid. His eyes still sting from tears and his stomach hurts, bile still attempting to spew everywhere in front of him. He swallows and rests his cheek onto his knees.

Even with his arms wrapped around his knees, head tucked and his thighs pressed to his chest, he doesn’t feel small enough.

Flash was gone. Supposedly, anyways. The police couldn't identify the body, not even his parents could, after all it was hard to identify someone who was torn apart. But they think it's Flash.

His body had been found in Central Park, wounds so deep anyone could see his torn muscles and broken, shattered bones. His eyes had been scraped out, smooshed to the ground with a shoe and his blood had seeped into the grass surrounding him. Even his tongue had been cut off and multiple teeth had been pulled, even the skin on his face had been slashed to the point no one could identify him.

May dumps water onto Peter's back, red running down his knees and he scrunches his eyes shut. 

"Pete, you have to tell us what happened. What you heard about... about Flash."

Tony's voice is soft even with the echo of the bathroom, but Peter feels sick to his stomach with the noise. Everyone-May, Tony, Happy, and Pepper-had to speak in a whisper, barely enunciating their words as even their heartbeats caused him to groan in pain.

_"I'm scared."_

_"Peter."_

_"Run."_

Flash wasn't gone. And if he wasn't, then whose body was that in the park? Questions burn at his mind and saliva pools in his mouth, his battle with nausea going downhill as he repeatedly swallows. Tears fill his eyes again and he wants to slam his own head into the wall until the images stop flashing in front of him every time he opens his eyes.

When the creature had touched him, when blood had begun to stream from his eyes, nose, ears, it wasn't a trick. Peter saw Flash. He saw his friend. He was scared. And faintly he wonders if the creature had even meant to leave him alive at all. If May and Tony hadn't been right outside, would he even be here at the Avengers Compound?

His stomach lurches again and he doesn't have enough energy to move his head further than two inches, and he vomits slightly over the bathtub. The color is dark against the porcelain and he gags again, coughing after it comes out his nose and May rubs his bare back.

The tips of her fingers gently run down the bumps of his spine as they protrude form his skin, even if it makes her frown.

"Boss," Happy grunts from the door, and he motions for Tony to follow him into the hallway. Although he's reluctant, Tony follows him.

Peter gasps, strings of saliva dripping down and May wipes at his mouth with a pitiful smile. She continues to rub at his back, similar to the way his mother did when he got upset as a child. The reminder brings a shuddering breath.

She looks sad when she sets her eyes on his red ones, her smile dipping down.

"I'm not crazy May," Peter croaks. She pauses for a moment.

"I know sweetheart."

"He told me he was scared," Peter whispers, "He told me to run."

May stops moving, her hand still at the base of his neck and he looks up at her, her face pale under the dimmed bathroom lights. Her heart stutters in her chest and her hand begins to shake as she grabs his hand. He grips it with the last bit of strength he has.

Her eyes are shining as she asks, "He spoke to you?"

Peter nods, a few tears spilling over and May looks like she wants to track Tony down. Instead, the older man comes into the room with the same pale face they all have had for the past thirty minutes, and he's got a polaroid in his hand. When he flips it around and the image becomes visible, Peter feels his heart speed up.

It's a picture of Flash, the same one the creature had burned into his mind. Dried mud along his neck and clothes, mouth still parted in a scream. And Tony looks over at Peter with a breathless laugh.

"Guess you were right, kid."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a lot like stranger things but i promise you that is not my intention and it'll all look different as this goes on yknow?
> 
> leave comments and kudos :)


	2. twist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She looks upset, a phone in her hands—which is his, unless MJ had gotten a matching Star Wars phone case—and she clicks on something on the screen when she turns it, he sees a notification for a voicemail, from Flash.
> 
> ”Care to explain, Parker?” She grits her teeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im super duper happy that people are enjoying this! im not sure how long this story will end up but im happy that everyone else is happy :)
> 
> CW//spiders, animal abuse, blood and choking

Midtown School of Science and Technology was bustling with activity and movement, students excitedly talking to one another or shouting across the halls. Large groups move in packs, pointing at their phones or shoving fingers in other people's faces. MJ can't comprehend what she's seeing at the bottom of the stairs as she furrows her eyebrows in confusion.

Not even two full days ago Flash Thompson went missing. Gone without a trace. Yesterday, his body was found in the park. He's dead. Not only does everyone know his name, he's literally a member of Academic Decathlon and Football. Yet it seems as if everyone has already forgotten it, or attempting to move on with their lives.

Leaves crunch from behind her and suddenly Peter stops right beside her, and she knows that he's also confused from the way his head cocks to the side. His eyes—although dimmed and red more than usual—flit across the different groups before he turns to her. Now that he's looking at her face to face, she can barely suppress her wince as she studies him.

Dark bruises reside under his eyes, purple and slightly inflamed, and his lips are dotted with red specks. Not to mention the suspicious amounts of blood that slowly trickle from his ears. MJ stammers, but she closes her mouth and her teeth click together with the force. She only nods to herself.

"I'll tell you later," Peter croaks. He grips the straps of his backpack when they begin to shake and musters up the energy to clamber up the stairs, and MJ follows after a moment or two. With Ned in the Philippines after a spontaneous vacation his mother had proposed, silence washes over them and Peter doesn't look like he's going to speak up any time soon.

She can't necessarily blame him either. He looks exhausted, and with Flash missing after they had just got their relationship going on the right path, he's definitely worried sick. Even her stomach twists and she has to swallow the bouts of saliva that pool in her mouth as they pass Flash's locker together. No one even spares them a glance.

Peter frowns to himself, his body hunches in on itself and he droops his head from exhaustion, but the questions in his mind continue to stir up a storm. Why the hell was everyone acting so normal? It's not like Flash had returned, despite the polaroid from the previous night. No one knew of it's existence though, and Tony had insisted that from here on out they keep this under wraps. The police still think that the body from the park had belonged to Flash and were going to wrap up the case by the end of the week.

Even Mr. and Mrs. Thompson were kept out of the loop, despite the way it made them wary. They were his parents after all... but how do you explain to two adults that their child had been kidnapped by a creature no one even knew existed?

The answer is easy, you don't tell them.

He looks up at MJ as they slow to a stop in front of her locker, and he wonders if he should tell her. Tony's warning echoes in his head the longer he thinks about it. But it's not like MJ wasn't trustworthy or bad at keeping secrets, they simply haven't reached that level of trust for one another.

But as students continue to bustle about and talk excitedly to each other, not a single word of Flash's disappearance, it starts to make him sick.

"Isn't this all weird to you?" Betty asks, her gaze trailing across the different groups.

Peter and MJ both jump, and he wonders why he didn't even sense her. He gapes for a few moments longer until she glances at them both, and shakes himself from his shock. MJ shrugs her shoulders, yet Betty insists again.

She clutches her backpack straps a bit tighter and hunches in on herself, and her eyes are glossy with tears, "I don't like this. Flash is gone and it feels like people are forgetting."

"Or just trying to move on. He was announced dead yesterday, but it's weird that everyone is... okay," MJ wrinkles her nose the longer she stares, and she crosses her arms over her chest. Betty goes to reply until Jason bounces over with a laugh, his phone brightness turned up all the way.

Peter squints at the bright screen, the pounding in his head increasing tenfold, and he grabs the large device as Jason continues to bounce from excitement. All the noise around him becomes muffled as he reads the headline everyone has been talking about. He sees a blurry picture below, a familiar color cloak and the undeniable reddish brown hair under the moonlight.

Was this the whole reason people suddenly forgot about the fact that a student at their school, their classmate, their friend, had completely disappeared off the face of the Earth? Because of a rumor? The Avengers regrouping and being pardoned?

_Scarlet Witch makes an appearance at the Avengers Compound with fellow companion! Will the Avengers come back together?_

Peter scowls, tossing the phone at Jason in annoyance. The older boy yelps angrily and begins to snarl, but the only thing Peter hears is muffled ringing. He swallows thickly, his ears now plugged with his fingers, and he thinks he mutters out an apology before he turns and sprints away. MJ calls after him, but it's lost in the hallways.

His throat is tight as bile continues to reappear, and Peter accidentally stumbles into a group of girls and he can only manage a grimace before he heads off again. Emotions swirl inside of him like a tornado, anger coursing through his veins and exhaustion still settled in his bones, though he can't put his fingers on it. On why he even feels like this in the first place.

_Flash is missing. Screw the Avengers._

Blood runs down from his ears, slipping past the curve of his fingers and either falling past his knuckles or pooling in the palm of his hand. The warm liquid sitting there in his palm, some of it slipping down and soaking into his long-sleeved shirt, staining the cracked skin besides his knuckles causes him to retch outside the bathroom door.

People jump out of the way with shouts of disgusts, their eyes watching him like a hawk.

_Screw the Avengers._

He shoulders open the bathroom door, moaning in pain when it slams against the tiled walls. His legs shake and he can barely hold it back any longer.

_Flash is missing._

Peter spits a thick glob of saliva into the sink, arms weak and shaky as he holds himself up. His foot is rolled under the him and he attempts to take pressure off it, but he ends up retching again and his ankle pops with the attempt to hold his weight.

_Flash is missing._

_Screw the Avengers._

Blood is smeared across the grime-covered sink as he adjusts his grip, shoulders shaking from exertion until he finally brings up bile. It splashes against the yellowed sink and a few chunks of his meager breakfast stare back at him. He coughs, mucus coating his aching throat and he moans again. Faintly, he hears MJ angrily yelling at someone to move out of her way.

Peter pinches his lips together, the pounding in his head almost unbearable now. He whines pitifully as he clutches it. Suddenly a hand comes to rest between his shoulders and he looks up in alarm, but MJ's worried eyes are already looking at him through the mirror. He wants to reassure her that he's alright now.

Instead he retches again, strings of saliva dangling from his open mouth, his stomach clenching from the pain. Scrambled eggs were the only thing he's had for breakfast and a bite of toast, yet he continues to cough. MJ looks even more worried when the noise doesn't cease.

He chokes at the tight feeling in his throat, something stuck in there and MJ goes pale. Peter—although they are now disgusting and now covered in grime—sticks two fingers down his throat in a last second attempt to grab whatever food it is before he inevitably panics further. He gags around his fingers and his eyes water, unpleasantly might he add, until he pinches at whatever is in his throat.

When he starts to pull, he gags at the feeling of legs attempting to skitter up his hand, retching again as it crawls onto his tongue and he drops his fingers in panic to cough. Looking at himself in the mirror, his stomach twists at the two legs that poke from his mouth and hook themselves under his bottom lip, and slowly crawls out of his mouth. He wants this to be some sick nightmare. He had to have fallen asleep in the back of Happy's car and he's having a nightmare.

But when he looks up, he knows for a fact that this is real from how suspiciously pale MJ has become from behind him. She's also snatched her hand from his back, which results in an _ouch._

Peter's lip dips down as the spider desperately clings on to it, and he finally musters up the common sense to slap at the spider and it squeals and squelches under his hand, until it finally falls into the yellowed sink on it's back, thoroughly beaten from his hand. A red, hourglass shaped marking stares up at him and the legs twitch, one, two, three more times before it officially falls still.

Electricity continues to hum from the lights overhead and he pants heavily, the spider’s literal insides still smooshed against his chin and throat until it stops right above his adam’s apple. He wants to puke all over again.

"God, that was fucking disgusting," Peter wheezes quietly.

MJ replies with a loud retch.

* * *

"So you're saying that it was Flash that spoke to you?"

MJ’s voice holds nothing but genuine curiosity, her eyes wide and glossy as she stares with her fists under her chin, and she’s close to falling off her bed with how intrigued she is. He laughs quietly besides himself.

He nods silently and he watches as she scribbles it down in her notebook, pencil scraping against the yellowed pages and the eraser has tiny pieces bitten off. He glances at his watch with worry and the time reads 12:31 PM.

They both came to the agreement to skip their fourth period class and the lunch period after Peter’s dramatic reenactment of a person in a horror film before first period had even started. So now they sit, MJ’s pencil scratching against her paper and an empty mug of green tea balanced in her lap as she sits on her bed, and Peter sits across below her on the floor, absentmindedly pulling at the frayed holes in his outdated shoes.

MJ also has a Pitbull named Luna, who had nestled her head into his thigh and fell asleep in his lap. He scratches at her black fur as MJ clears her throat again in a dramatic way.

”Do y’know where Flash was last seen?”

”No,” Peter shakes his head.

”Delmar’s. Police got his statement already, but we all know how shitty the NYPD is,” MJ rolls her eyes, “What if there’s clues? What if they hadn’t caught everything there? They said the CCTV footage was scrambled and basically useless but that’s bull. Absolutely bull, don’tcha think so?”

“Are you saying we should check it out for ourselves?” Peter raises an eyebrow, his hand coming to a stop on Luna’s stomach. She peeks an eye open.

MJ smiles giddily, her hands coming up to hide her mouth when he flops over dramatically and his back _thunks_ against her hardwood floor. Luna snorts in surprise, eyes wide as she watches him and he apologizes in a special voice he sets aside just for dogs.

He sighs and tugs his bottom lip between his teeth. His eyes track her ceiling fan until he grows dizzy, closes his eyes and his thoughts begin to take over. Stomach clutching, he purses his lips.

It would, no doubt, be one hundred thousand percent unsafe. But, MJ was right. The police don’t necessarily try their hardest when it comes down to missing persons, as long as they get to go home and snuggle in their beds and cash their checks at the end of the day.

Maybe he could find a way to unscramble the CCTV footage, or him and MJ could discover a clue. But if MJ does tag along, her life is at danger. She could go missing too. He doesn’t want to risk that at all, with one of his friends already missing, his other across the equator, if MJ were to go missing he would probably lose his shit even faster.

But he doesn’t want to be alone.

He digs the palms of his hands into his eyes as they burn with frustration. He hears MJ click at something and her heart speed up, so he peeks at her through his fingers.

She looks upset, a phone in her hands—which is his, unless MJ had gotten a matching _Star Wars_ phone case—and she clicks on something on the screen when she turns it, he sees a notification for a voicemail, from Flash.

”Care to explain, Parker?” She grits her teeth.

He pushes himself up quickly, going to reach for his phone but stops when she pulls back. He recognizes the way her nose scrunches up and she suddenly won’t look at him.

He had unknowingly fucked up.

”MJ, I promise you that I had no clue that was on my phone,” He explains slowly. She clenches her jaw again before she juts the phone out again.

Peter unlocks it for her with his thumb and she quickly taps on the notification. She quickly changes it to speakerphone and sets it down on her lap, her notebook already in her hand and pencil in the other, ready to write down whatever Flash says.

It’s quiet, and the silence itself poses as a threat. Peter perks up at a footstep that sounds through the speaker, followed by a squelch and a shaky exhale.

” _P... Peter.”_

MJ freezes in shock, mouth slightly parted and she lets out a shuddering breath, looking down at Peter. He’d gone pale, so much so that the bruises under his eyes and the green veins that bulged through the skin on his forehead were the only color on his face. His brown eyes had glazed over with unshed tears and his fingers trembled against Luna’s stomach.

MJ turns back to the phone as she hears a sharp inhale.

 _“F-Flash? Flash can you hear me?!”_ Peter called out.

 _“I’m scared,”_ Flash’s voice echoed.

 _“Okay, j-just tell me where you are! I can get you out!”_ Peter cried out.

They both grow quiet, and MJ has to check the voicemail to see if it was over. Forty-two seconds remain, slowly ticking down one by one. Eventually whispers start to come through the speaker, but they remain jumbled and incoherent to their ears.

Flash cried out over the line at twenty-two seconds, and at twenty he begs Peter to run, because he has to. The whispers had grown unbearable and she barely represses the urge to cover her ears.

”God...” Peter moans painfully, and his fingers have found their way over his own ears.

Suddenly Luna jumps up and startles them both as she begins to growl, her nails digging into the hardwood and scratching deeply at it as she begins to run around the room. She runs around Peter in circles, barking at something neither of them can see.

”Can’t dogs sense evil shit?” MJ nervously laughs.

”I don’t fucking know! It’s your dog, shouldn’t you know?” He stresses, almost paralyzed with fear. The sudden drop in temperature has him shivering against the floor and his spider-sense flares up abruptly, but it’s too late by then.

Luna yelps in pain as she slides across the floor, all the way out the bedroom door until she hits the hallway wall with a _thunk._ MJ yells something incoherent as she scrambles off the bed towards her dog but the door shuts in her face.

”Damnit! Luna!” MJ wriggles the doorknob in alarm, and she startles when Peter lets out a yell.

He curls in on himself, teeth clenched, and he’s gripping his wrist with so much force the veins start to pop out. He lets go with a forced exhale and rolls up his sleeve to his elbow when his skin starts to burn.

Peter chokes suddenly, red specks coloring his bottom lip and he cries out, the burning sensation on his arm only growing hotter by the millisecond. MJ calls out to him but he doesn't hear much of what she says, until her hand grabs his wrist. His vision clears up slightly and when he looks down, he feels sick.

A letter is being carved into his wrist, bold from the thick stream of blood that gushes from it. It pools into his lap and seeps into his clothing.

_R_

Peter coughs, his spider-sense telling him to move his ass to the bathroom. He wants to apologize for the beads of blood already on the hardwood floor, but he stumbles into the desk besides the bathroom instead and his hip begins to ache. Flicking on the bathroom light, he moans at the sensation on his arm and he wonders faintly if he'll pass out before he can wrap it.

”Wa... bleeding—arker.”

MJ’s voice is lost to the static in his ears and the icy panic that threatens to freeze his lungs for eternity.

It’s almost as if someone had placed dying coals onto his skin—embers scarring his skin as they die off and only for a moment would his skin cool until a jagged curve starts to drag along his body again. He groans through the pain, huffing and puffing out hot breaths of air as he leans over the sink.

The light hurts his eyes, more than he would have originally thought, and he dips his wrist under the water he'd turned on. As the blood tints the water and porcelain in front of him, another letter appears.

_U_

He shouts as another line slowly cuts down his skin, pulling and tearing his skin apart at a snail’s pace, and his shoulders shake with sobs. MJ is standing a few feet away with her hand pressed to her mouth, pointedly ignoring the blood on it, and her eyes are glossed over with worry. She looks like she wants to step forward and help, but she remains frozen in place.

Overhead the lights flicker for a few moments, and he has half a mind to ask her for help in a childish, needy way, but he steels himself instead and glances down at his wrist again. The drain has somehow clogged and the water rushing from the faucet had turned black, and he shouts at the stinging in his cuts.

When he takes a look at the cuts, he swats off the leeches that had shown up from the tinted water, blood seeping down again and onto the floor. He presses a random cloth to staunch the bleeding until he can actually look at what had been forcibly carved into his own skin.

_R U N._

_Run._

_Peter... run._

He whips around to look at MJ, and then the air is knocked from his lungs so abruptly he wonders if he knew what inhaling was. He slips on the blood that had fallen to the floor and lands on his back, his head slamming into the ground and the world in front of him splits into two. He grunts and pushes his self up as much as he can muster until he sees MJ again.

It seems as if the same had happened to her, but she’s quicker to recover and she’s pushing herself up fully when the door slams shut between the two, officially separating them.

“No! MJ!” Peter shouts, his fingers dipping into his own blood as he stands and he grabs onto the doorknob, jiggling the handle as his other hand furiously beats against the door.

What happened the previous day still played at the back of his mind, the memory bubbling up to the surface as he yells and screams for MJ. This had to be how May and Tony had felt, as MJ screams back at him. The lights flicker again and he can’t stop his sob, the doorknob crushing under his hand.

”You’re losing yourself again, aren’t you darling?”

Peter chokes at the voice, his gaze instantly on the mirror to his right. His mother stands right beside him, her polka dotted dress fit perfectly and her black belt pulled tight around her waist for Wednesday park dates with dad. Her lips are painted with her favorite shade of red and she frowns down at him, her hairspray still as strong as ever.

He sobs harder now, continues to hit the door as if he hadn’t seen her. Because he truly hadn’t. She was simply a figment of his imagination, despite her familiar smell and the wrinkles she would get when she would frown at him or his father, but she wasn’t there.

And when he looks back, she’s not there. A part of him grows angry at himself. MJ’s in trouble, and he decided to pay attention to his dead mother.

”Peter! Break down the door o-or something—“

MJ suddenly cuts herself off, her shout ending in a pained cough and his spider-sense begins to thrum so painfully in his veins that he panics even further. She starts coughing and gasping for air, and he rams his shoulder into the door. It doesn’t budge.

Something falls over in the room and he imagines that she’s kicking out, clawing at her throat for air or at whoever is choking her. He repeats his previous action, the wood splintered this time around. His panic doesn’t stop growing and he feels like he’s drowning in it once again.

”Hold on MJ!”

Her coughs and sputters cause his heart to clench, painfully so, until he finally breaks the door down. It cracks in three, splintering down to the bottom in an irregular web but he steps over it.

His face contorts from his horror of watching MJ dangle in the air from her silver necklace, her hands scratching at the metal as it burns her neck while simultaneously choking her to death.

It’s twisted tightly behind her neck and tears had already begun to stream down her face, her lips tinted a pale blue. He springs into action, his feet meeting her ceiling and he crouches behind her, reaching out to rip the necklace away.

Peter shouts in pain as the silver burns his hand, but he grabs onto it despite the pain. MJ’s movements are growing less frantic as she’s officially focused on trying to inhale oxygen despite her current predicament. Finally the chain breaks into pieces and it bounces off the floor until it settles and melts through the hardwood.

He grabs the back of her shirt between her shoulders before she can fall to the floor. Her arms swing limply and his heart drops, and he thinks she’s dead for a moment. Realizing how ridiculous it sounds, Peter drops to the floor and rests his arms under her back, her head lolling to the side as he shakes her.

”MJ! Come on, you gotta wake up.”

He brushes a finger against the burns on her neck, and they’re already red and blistering as the seconds tick by. A loud bang sounds from right beside him and he jumps, MJ still unconscious in his arms.

The NYPD stands with their guns raised, aimed directly at him and he realizes how bad this look. He has an unconscious, teenage girl in his arms with burn marks on her throat and blue lips from the lack of oxygen. He’s screwed.

”Drop the girl and put your hands up!” The first officer shouts, voice gruff and demanding.

Peter hesitates, his eyes lingering on her for a few seconds too long. He can’t just _drop_ her, can he?

When he looks back up, he’s being shot in the face and his whole world explodes into hot, white, prickling pain.

He ends up dropping MJ anyways.

So much for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LEAVE COMMENTS AND UR PREDICTIONS!! I LOVE READING THEM!!
> 
> i am super excited for the next chapter already! i had to rewrite this one quite a bit before it felt fitting to the story and for the life of me i could barely get through the spider part lol.
> 
> i mentioned the irregular web on the broken bathroom door bc black widows spin irregular webs from what i had read, and i wanted to nod at it.


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